


Daddy's Day

by Missy



Category: Army of Darkness (1992), Evil Dead (Movies), Evil Dead - All Media Types
Genre: Community: schmoop_bingo, F/M, Family, Father's Day, Holidays, Kid Fic, Married Couple, Parenthood, Shower Sex, Smut, Zombies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-03
Updated: 2010-10-03
Packaged: 2017-10-12 09:26:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/123386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Missy/pseuds/Missy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ash's first Father's Day as a dad has a lot of bumps - some of them typical for him, some of them not-so-typical.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Daddy's Day

**Author's Note:**

> Written for schmoop_bingo: prompt: Father's Day

Ash planned on celebrating his first Father's Day by sawing wood. He'd earned it, after all; mutant pineapples had attacked him in aisle five and there had been an ugly incident with some vampires in the diaper aisle. If anything, he had earned himself another coma, but Sheila would frown on the old Rip Van Winkle act with a little kid in the house. And besides, Ash'd miss the fun of waking up at the crack of dawn with a colicky baby with diaper rash.

He was off by quite a few hours when he felt a soft hand rubbing the small of his back.

He opened his eyes to see Sheila sitting next to him, holding little Eleanor in her arms. "Happy father's day, Ash," his wife said. Little Eleanor, still pre-verbal, babbled gleefully, reaching out for his touch.

Ash smacked his tongue against the ultra-dry roof of his mouth before turning over and reaching for the baby. She went to him with eager, rapid kicks, and he planted her against his left side. "Hey, stinky," he said, pecking the top of her head. Eleanor squealed, grabbing his chin and letting out a rapid babble of babytalk.

"Ye should not call her that," Sheila complained, handing him a dish of French toast and a card. Ash put those on the side table and reached up to grab his wife instead. Her kisses came in the usual pattern (dimple, scar, chin, scar, mole, lips). When she got to 'lips' he grabbed the back of her head with his metal hand and pinned her to his mouth until she was forced to struggled free for a breath of air. Eleanor began to make distressed sounds and reach for her own kiss, which he planted on her cheek. "Rogue," she complained, picking up the baby, who gave a squall of discontent . "Read thy card and I shall leave thee to eat while I feed the baby."

"If you didn't like it, you wouldn't be here," Ash pointed out reasonably. "Just stay here and feed her. She's not bugging me," he suggested, to cut down on the volume of noise. He picked up the card, which was an overly sappy Hallmark offering, with Sheila's elegant signature inside and Eleanor's tiny handprint in bright pink stamp ink. He gave her an aww and thanked them both before eating his breakfast like a starving man.

Sheila sighed at the mess he made, occupying their rocking chair and parting the front of her dress; Ash made a good show of pretending not to see a glimpse of his wife's breast when Eleanor latched on. "Have ye heard," Sheila spoke, distracting him, "that the zoo allows fathers in for free today?"

Ash almost said 'no' but was wise enough to hold his tongue when it came to his wife. "Uh, yeah…I think you said something about that."

She grinned. "Then ye would be delighted to escort Miss Eleanor to the party?"

"Woah, wait – what party?"

"Tis a celebration of fathers and children. Jugglers, clowns, singers, free refreshments…"

"…Baking out in the heat while I do the hokey-pokey with a six-month-old on my hip and some old fart sings 'Puff the Magic Dragon'…"

Sheila's posture stiffened. "It is Father's Day, and ye should spend time with thy daughter."

"But she's too young to remember…"

"I shall be eternally grateful, Ashley."

She was giving him the puppydog eyes. Ash groaned and raked his fingers through his hair. "All right, I'll go. Just run me a shower, okay babycakes?"

"I ran ye a bath."

He groaned as Eleanor giggled as her mother gently burped her. The baby then gave a loud, unladylike belch and Ash couldn't resist laughing the family resemblance; it sounded just like one of his own. Sheila glowered at him and turned away, dabbing some pale green spit-off from her new dress. He vaguely remembered a time when they were nothing but lovers and glowered right back.

***

He carried the baby into the zoo in his typical way; she rode his left hip, little fingers clinging to the fold of his shirt. He pressed the baby close to his side as he navigated his way through the crowd, pushing others aside when necessary.

"Where do you wanna start?" he asked Eleanor. "Face painting? Balloons?"

"Perhaps the storyteller?" Sheila suggested.

"When'd you learn to throw your voice?" he asked the baby. Eleanor started playing with the hinges of his metal hand and he instantly pulled it from her grip. Sheila laughed, the tone of her pleasure only a tad cruel. They went to the face painting tent first, where a woman in an afro painted a tiny unicorn on Eleanor's cheek and a heart on Sheila's, then sat cross-legged on the ground before a storyteller.

The storyteller was a guy in a couple of white sheets and a laurel wreath on his head who lead the crowd through the story of Sally the Sick Sea Serpent and her Father Sam. Apparently, she was sick because people were polluting the ocean and only Sam could warn the villagers about their impending doom and blah blah– Ash zoned out somewhere in the middle of it; Eleanor, her father's daughter, fell asleep in his arms.

He had to admit, this part of parenthood was sort of nice. A baby that needed him, a wife that loved him, and a lazy Sunday afternoon. As the storyteller finished, Ash felt a sense of rare peace and gratefulness that he hadn't experienced in a long time.

"HEY BOYS AND GIRLS!" the garishly-painted clown screamed. He jolted; Eleanor let out a wail; Sheila winced. The clown got down on his knees, right in Ash's face. "Awww, lookit the gloomy guses," he tried to pinch Eleanor's cheek but she leaned back his touch, glaring up in sleepy confusion at this loud thing. "Looks like someone needs a…FLYING HIPOPOTAMUS!" He produced a balloon animal that almost looked like a hippopotamus, if hippos had long, narrow necks and no rear end.

Ash glowered at the guy. "Get out of my kid's face," he ordered.

"III CAN'T HEAR YOU!" The clown shouted, blowing on his kazoo. Eleanor had stopped crying and stared at the man with an expression of pouty discontent that matched her fathers'.

"Ashley…" Sheila's warning tone didn't stop Ash from standing up.

"I said back off!" Ash demanded, giving the guy a push. The kazoo made a sour sound as it hit the ground.

The clown's grin was suddenly strained. "Back off, mack, or I'll call my brother Mr. Lawyer and let him sort it out."

"YOU back off," Ash replied, holding Eleanor protectively closer. "Or I'll introduce your face to Mister Boomstick."

"ASHLEY," Sheila shouted. He knew that any further complaints on his part would just lead to her giving him the cold shoulder all afternoon, but Ash couldn't stop himself from trying to glare the clown down. A wise choice, for before Ash's eyes the clown turned pasty beneath his makeup, his eyes suddenly a demonic red.

"You need a time-out, Promised One. A time out in _hell._ "

Shit! Ducking the clown's flailing arm, Ash managed to kick the bastard away with his left leg and ground himself with the right, flipping over backwards twice, and keeping Eleanor safely out of range. It grabbed a picnic table and held it aloft before tossing it toward a group of fleeing children. Dodging barbeque grills and brass instruments, Ash tried to weigh his options on the fly, remembering that he'd left his gun – foolishly – back at the apartment.

"I'LL SWALLOW YOUR SOUL!" it bellowed.

"Go lick a mime!" Ash replied.

"ASHLEY!" Sheila bellowed, waving the rifle over her head – brilliant wench that she was, she'd brought it with her and tucked it into the picnic basket! In the rapid flow of movement, he'd grabbed the rifle, pitched his daughter into the air, buried six rounds of led in the clown's skull, and caught Eleanor again.

Ash looked down at his daughter. The little girl made a happy, burbling sound as she sat ensconced in his hold. "Chip off the ol' block," he declared, then glanced around him to survey the damage. Children clung in clusters to their mothers or guardians; all of whom glared at Ash; picnic tables had been overturned, sandwiches dotting the manicured grass; groups of travelling jugglers and clowns had all paused to stare open-mouthed at the scene. He turned to Sheila, who was wiping blood from her cheek with a napkin. "Not bad for a Sunday."

He sort of expected the slap she gave him for that.

****

The rest of the visit had passed nicely enough; a walk through the zoo, and a picnic lunch at another park. By the time they'd packed up the car Sheila only seemed to be vaguely miffed with him, a major step up from 'on the warpath and ready to kill'.

In fact, she seemed flirtatious as they put away the picnic basket and tossed the linens in to be washed. She even gave him a kiss on the cheek for changing Eleanor's diaper. He put the baby down for her nap when Sheila suggested she take a shower before dinner.

When he followed her into the bathroom she said nothing, not even when he stripped off his own clothing in a hasty pile and began to unstrap his right hand. Sheila got the shower going and stepped inside as he finished stripping, leaning back against the shower wall, her legs spread invitingly.

Ash stared at her breasts instead – once small and plump, they were now lush with mother's milk. He cupped one and fondled it as he leaned into the spray and his wife's kiss.

Dimple, scar, chin, scar, mole, lips.

When he began to roll her nipple between his fingers she gasped and pushed him away. "Gently," she scolded, and he grunted in acknowledgement, having forgotten that the lushness he adored also meant his wife was sore from nursing – disadvantage forty million to parenthood. She met his eyes and captured his stare as she ran a hand over his chest and drew him close for a kiss.

When it broke, he switched breasts, nudging his left knee between her legs, using his right arm to hold on to her. "Missed you like this, baby" he admitted, kissing her neck. "I thought you were mad."

"Ne're. I but wish ye'd be more cautious when holding Eleanor in battle." Sheila's fingers caressed his stomach as they reached inexorably toward his half-hard cock, which jerked and filled with blood the second it sensed her incoming touch.

"She enjoyed it." Ash's voice was husky as he traced a similar path down her body. "Adventure's in the Williams blood, darlin'. "

"Tis true, but I feel it course within my own veins," her fingers fluttered over the head of his cock, then gently surrounded it and began to stroke. "Perhaps the union of our bodies allowed thy adventure to mingle within me?"

Ash just groaned; he couldn't think about anything while she pleasured him with her clever, soft fingers. Advantage number one to marriage: the person you're married to will gladly learn all about your hot spots and keep them learned, using every dirty trick in the book to keep you excited with them. Sheila's other hand had begun to stroke his chest, then slipping over his left flank to massage his back and trip teasingly down his spine, eventually cupping his balls.

His mind lost in the delirium of his pleasure, Ash tried to focus on arousing his wife, keeping up the careful breast massage and combining it with a not-so-careful but consistent grinding of his thigh into her sex. It worked – she was leaving a slick trail behind as she rocked her pelvis to and fro in counterrhythm, her cheeks were red and her eyelids drooping closed. He quickly replaced his thigh with his hand, to better stimulate her clit.

But soon, Ash's wrist started cramping up from the position he'd been forced to take – his mind raced for a quick solution to the growing tension; maybe he could get her off with his hand in the bedroom after she did the same for him? She'd probably rather be eaten out, but they didn't have time for the luxurious brand of tongue job she preferred. God, he just wanted to sink his cock into her and ride her hard and fast, like in the old days, but as far as he knew actual intercourse was still forbidden until her doctor gave his okay– disadvantage forty million that fatherhood provided. But then his mind absolutely froze still when she removed her hand from his dick.

"Damn it, Sheila…" Had the baby started crying? Ash reached down to finish the job she'd started when, through the steam provided by the shower , he saw her pull something out from beneath the bar of Irish Spring sitting in the soap dish. She held it up before his dazed eyes. A Trojan.

"Happy Father's Day," she smiled.

The irony of being presented with a prophylactic on this particular day was lost on Ash; he all but ripped the rubber out of her hand and tossed the paper sheathe aside, then rolled the condom down his aching cock. "Sure this is safe?"

She nodded. "Thy doctor approved the resumption of our marital duties at my check-up," she informed him, making the clinical phrase sound like a sexy come-on. He looked down and learned why; Sheila had stuffed her right hand between her thighs and was rubbing her clit in anticipation of his entrance.

Fully sheathed, Ash stared at her moving hand intensely and she blushed. "Honey, keep playing with that pussy," he demanded, yanking her thighs wide apart. Sheila gasped, the exposure turning her on – her hand moving faster on her mound. Ash cupped her ass in his hand and put her hips into position; Sheila bent her knees back, leaving herself open and throwing them around his waist. He reached down to slip his penis between her soft lips and she threw her arms around his neck – he nudged his right arm underneath her head, using it to support and protect her. She kissed his limb in gratitude, just above the amputation, a sign of respect and desire.

Ash wanted to go slowly, but Sheila wouldn't let him – clever muscles quivered in delight as he eased the first two inches into her swollen wetness. With a soft grunt he buried the rest of himself inside of her, and Sheila gasped, her head falling forward onto his collarbone, then back against the wall.

She felt as soft and smooth as she ever had, though he couldn't feel her usually plentiful wetness through the rubber. The clasp of her tightened involuntarily as he pulled back to thrust; Sheila squeezed his shoulder, grinding her mound into pubic bone.

Ash tried his dammedest to remain gentle, but the siren call of his wife's body demanded vigor – when she rolled her hips in his hand and tried to squeeze him with her inner muscles he lost control and began to pound himself into her. Sheila threw herself frantically against him, kissing him sloppily, wildly, as they rode each other, wanting it to last forever and knowing it couldn't.

"So damn close," he muttered into her neck, kissing her face. When he lowered his face to her breasts she didn't protest his lapping her stiff nipples.

"Oh!" she called out, grabbing his ass with her free hand. "Please!"

He couldn't reach her clit in this position, and so her hand returned to the spot between her legs and began to grind her palm against it.

He could let go – she could take care of herself. Pounding into this woman – the mother of his child, his wife, the woman he'd grown to love nearly as much as himself - Ash reached orgasm, and as he reached it a million memories filtered through his mind; taking her virginity in the armory on the fur rug; reunion sex standing against a case display at the S-Mart after a hell of a shift; a wedding night wrapped in organdy because they could barely stand to wait for each other; making love under the bleachers during a Fourth of July concert in what felt like slow motion; conceiving Eleanor and trying to be gentle with Sheila afterward, only to discover that his bride's passion wouldn't allow the kid gloves treatment. Memory and sensation and sight and scent collided in Ash's brain; he didn't remember the orgasm itself as more than a rush of pleasure – he'd let out a sobbing breath and fallen asleep for a few seconds, his face mashed into the wall beside her head.

As the world snapped into focus, Ash felt a soft fluttering around himself – his wife was still coming. Kissing her sweaty forehead, he let her ride it out before letting her drop to her feet.

For a moment, they just weakly embraced each other. Then she looked up at him, grinning. "For all of thy complaints," she declared, "ye do enjoy thy sugar."

He shrugged. Specifically admitting he loved her was hard, no matter how many years they'd loved each other, but he figured she knew. The kiss she pressed to his chest said it all. "Oh, Ashley…" Their daughter's shrill wail cut off Sheila's speech. "Could ye…"

Ash pointed to his stump.

She rolled her eyes. "Ye could have nary a limb and check on a babe."

He pointed to the condom wilting its way off of his dick. Sheila sighed her disgust, quickly rinsed her body, and rushed out of the shower, tossing on a nightgown and donning a robe before meeting their daughter.

Ash was a naturally flawed human being, but he wasn't a complete jerk. After throwing away the condom and its wrapper he wiped down the shower, then dumped their dirty clothing and sodden towels in the laundry pile. He made sure to calibrate his hand, comb his hair and put on a fresh pair of boxers before heading into the bedroom.

Sheila had finished Eleanor's evening feeding – she handed the baby to Ash after burping her. "Tis time for her to sleep," Sheila declared, getting up from the rocking chair and getting into bed.

Ash looked down at the baby. He was sore from the afternoon's slaughter, and not a little miffed about the enforced silence of the shower sex he'd just had. But he looked down into the trusting face of his daughter and suddenly realized he couldn't stay mad at her – he really did love her that much.

"You're lucky you're cute," Ash growled to the baby as he laid her in her crib.

Eleanor smirked a contented and very Williams-like smirk as she curled up. Daddy was wrapped around her little finger. All she'd have to do is ask for the world and she'd have it.

It was good to be the princess.


End file.
